I sit on that cold bench where only I sit. The wind has made it colder than ever but that’s what makes it better. The other benches sit in the sun covered with warmth, but never will I sit there. I like to be alone where the sun can never show. And I love the way the big tree covers and shadows me, and it sways, making a noise that only I can hear. And the way I can walk around the bottom of its pure brown trunk and it still shadows me. And I love that only the bees can notice me. No one talks to me or sits by me on that cold bench. That’s always how it’s been.